The First Granddaughter
by SakuraTeardrop
Summary: <html><head></head>With Grumman crowned as the new Fuhrer of Amestris, there will be major changes in Riza's life now that she's the first granddaughter. Rated T just in case Royai of course :D</html>
1. The Grand Estate

Chapter 1

-The Grand Estate-

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><p>"<em>I wonder what he needs this time<em>?" Riza Hawkeye wondered, taking a step back from the porch just to marvel at the massive structure.

Before her stood a proud century-old estate that had become a symbol of power and dominion over the years for it housed the fiercest dictators, aristocrats, democrats to have ever walked Amestris. And now, it was home to her grandfather, the newly appointed Fuhrer.

As a girl, her rare visits with grandpa would consist of him dragging her along to the said Grand Estate. In those days, the estate had been packed with various soldiers raging from corporals to the most well-known generals in the city. As a result, General Grumman would opt to leave his granddaughter with one of the corporals while he socialized with the men of the same rank; hence, Riza's visits to Grandpa Grumman would be limited to five times a month to two times a month until it eventually became zero times a month.

First Lieutenant Hawkeye was not exactly close to her grandfather despite the fact they were both stationed in the Central HQ.

Of course there were times wherein they would bump into each other in the hallway. And inevitably, this would cause General Grumman to give his estranged granddaughter an awkward shoulder pat as a measly sign of affection and in turn, she would raise her eyebrows to acknowledge him.

Also, when Riza's birthday would come up, he would send her a postcard of the beautiful Amestrian Hills with a messy inscription at the back that would say,

_"__Happy Birthday, Elizabeth."_

And that was the most interaction they probably had.

Now that her grandfather was Fuhrer, there wasn't any noticeable difference in the grandfather-granddaughter relationship. He still sent her cheap postcards and gave her awkward pats and in addition, lunch and dinner invites to his estate, which she was never in attendance of; however, today had been an exception for it was not every day when her grandpa would have his footman personally deliver an invite to her.

Upon seeing Grumman's footman on her doorstep, she decided that it was probably an urgent matter that needed her attention.

This probably wasn't just a _casual_ brunch at the gardens seeing as the Fuhrer knew she was a busy woman.

Moreover, being a woman in the military meant Lieutenant Hawkeye had no time for idling. It had been nine long years since she has first lent her services to the military. And Riza was never the type of soldier to stray off her path. All her life, she dedicated herself to the military and her one superior officer, Roy Mustang.

All week, Roy has been nothing but passionate—fighting for the Ishvalans' _magna carta_ until Fuhrer Grumman rightfully granted this request over a year ago. Brigadier General Mustang barely appeared in his office due to his hectic schedule; hence, he was no longer able to supervise his subordinates. He was either attending a peace conference or another meeting with other generals; but in any case, he would occasionally leave her notes on her desk.

"_Lieutenant, I can't be at the office today."_

" _Make sure they're good to you, all right? If anything goes wrong, please call me."_

" _I'll be here right away."_

"_There was an urgent meeting today and I was obliged to attend."_

…but for over a week now, Roy hasn't left any note on her desk and he'd just disappear into _his_ busy world. She hasn't heard from him for quite some time now and it bothered her every bit.

Why?

It was because she was desensitized with the fact she was _always _with him. She was always the one who helped him discern every decision he took. She was the one who had the permission to take him down if he faltered and she was the only one who _stayed _for him but now, he doesn't need her as much as he did in the past.

He had been flying solo ever since he earned his position as _Brigadier General Mustang_. And that very title came with more duties to fulfill. Riza was no longer the naïve cadet nine years ago so she knew very well that he had much important matters to attend to.

As she heard the door creaked open, she stood at attention and ceased her stream of thought.

"What business do you have with Fuhrer Grumman?" A tall Amestrian soldier questioned her with his eyes surveying every inch on her body.

Riza sighed for she wasn't in her uniform, which meant she was not recognized nor authorized. It was all due to the fact her grandfather had requested her to wear "civilian" clothes today for General Grumman would constantly remind her that she was not feminine enough.

"_I don't want to see you in those baggy military pants. Your mother would be so repulsed that she herself will descend from heaven and make you change appropriately."_

The lieutenant pulled out her military ID from her purse and showed it to the military officer. The officer hadn't budged from where he stood. He didn't even take a glance at her ID and just stared at her sternly. It was as if he were trying to get a read out of her.

"I'm his granddaughter, soldier. I'm a Lieutenant from the Central HQ if you haven't read my ID." _which you obviously didn't_, she thought sarcastically.

"Its Sergeant Hays," The soldier flashes his pearly whites as he leans against the doorframe. "You're Lieutenant Hawkeye, right? I thought I recognized you."

_Are you being intentionally dense? _"Yes, it's a pleasure, Mr. Hays. Now if you please, I might run a little late—"

"I'd like to buy you lunch sometime."

She replied rather nonchalantly that, "There is a fraternization policy in the military."

The sergeant's head bobbed up and down from the intensity of his laughter. Riza cocked her brow because as a matter of fact, she said something factual. For a second, she analyzed her statement and concluded that it wasn't funny. at . all.

"I'm sorry. I'm no soldier. I just got into Fuhrer Grumman's old uniform to see how it fits." She looked a tad dumbfounded so he continued, "I'm actually the son of a very good friend of his."

Due to the fact she chose not to say anything, he proceeded to introduce himself. "Daniel" The pseudo soldier stuck his hand out towards her. "Daniel Hays."

Riza's russet eyes glinted before shaking his hand. "Riza Hawkeye."

"I know" The man called Daniel shows his teeth once again. "Your grandfather just goes on and on about you and I concur, you are very beautiful, Miss Hawkeye," He still held her hand when he said this.

Riza's quickly withdrew her hand. "Flattery doesn't worm your way into the barracks, Mister Hays. I'm sure my grandfather can find you a suitable position, but I will never recommend you."

Before the man could respond, she slipped past him and disappeared into the hall; nevertheless his eyes remained on the dark, empty hallway until he pulled away. "_Feisty and immune to me is just the way I like it." _He whispers to himself with a sly grin as he shut the front door.

Riza Hawkeye shook her head-_not wanting to think about what just happened_-as she walked past the security stationed at the bottom of the stairwell. She quickly flashed her ID before they could even ask to avoid interrogation. When given the nod of approval, Lieutenant Hawkeye ascended the stairs at an average pace.

"Miss Hawkeye, your grandfather has requested me to assist you going to his office." A woman with a slightly tan complexion bowed her head towards her.

Upon lifting her head, the woman smiled. "I'm Isobel. The Fuhrer's newly appointed assistant. I am pleased to meet you, ma'am."

Riza's lips curved to form a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Isobel."

Slightly bowing her head, Isobel gestured her hand towards the leftmost end of hallway to the right of the staircase. "Miss Hawkeye, if you please follow me."

Isobel spun her heel around and began walking towards the well-lit hallway as the lieutenant obliged.

The hall was decorated with framed pictures of the past rulers of Amestris and their families. Riza's russet eyes could not tear away in awe as she would recall the stories that Fuhrer Grumman would tell her as a kid - some were heroes that fought for the rights of the citizens, but most had become blind with power and eventually became dictators.

When Riza Hawkeye stopped to look at the sixteenth mahogany-framed portrait, she felt a bit uneasy.

Looking back at her, was a portrait of the previous Fuhrer, King Bradley with his wife and son looking very happy.

_Poor Mrs. Bradley just had to discover that both her husband and adopted son were homunculi._

_How awful that must have been..._

"The Fuhrer hasn't taken this down yet?" Riza inquired, her eyes still set on the frame.

The Fuhrer's new assistant stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Your grandfather wanted to keep it there for one more day before disposing of it completely."

Isobel made sure no one was in sight when she whispered, "Personally, I would have disposed of it immediately. That portrait gives me the creeps."

Lieutenant Hawkeye's nodded in agreement.

"Sir Mustang had the same reaction earlier." Isobel turned around to look at the Fuhrer's granddaughter. "He said it should be disposed of immediately."

"He dropped by today?" Riza turned to her at once.

The secretary nodded politely. "He has been here the whole day."

Isobel asked if they can move on and Riza agreed. With a bright aura, Isobel led her to the leftmost end of the hallway where two giant doors awaited. The secretary then pushed them open with no difficulty.

Riza walked into what seemed to be the Fuhrer's lounge. The interior had changed through time and the bright blue wall now had gold-patterned fleur de lis all over it. The secretary's desk was adjacent to the door and creamy white sofas were placed parallel each other with a fairly large rectangular glass coffee table in between. On the coffee table were stacks of newsletters of new edition. Like the hallway they passed earlier, the lounge had a lot of framed photos of Fuhrer Grumman's family, which included the Lieutenant as a child. Out of the many frames, only one had captured Lieutenant Hawkeye's eye. And this was the big portrait that hung above the secretary's desk.

It was a painting of her mother, Felissa, casually seated on a rocking chair with a baby not more than three months in her arms. Behind the rocking chair was her father, Berthold Hawkeye whose serious expression seemed unchanged until the moment he breathed his last.

"Do you like it miss? Fuhrer had it brought in today."

"The Fuhrer did now?"

"I reckon the lady looks just like you." Isobel says with her emerald orbs pinned on the woman whose golden hair curled its way past her shoulders in the painting. "She was very beautiful."

Before Riza could respond to this, the doors flew open and the two were graced with the presence of Fuhrer Grumman and Brigadier General Mustang. Isobel automatically bows her head and the lieutenant gives a salute to acknowledge his presence.

"Elizabeth." Grumman says in delight. "I am so glad you could make it at such a short notice."

"It wasn't trouble at all, sir." She replied.

"Very well." Fuhrer smirked, satisfied with the answer. He then turned to his secretary, Isobel and said. "Miss Crewe, if you please exit the premises? The three of us have important matters to discuss."

The secretary complies with this and quietly makes her way out of the room.

Lieutenant Hawkeye takes a seat on the creamy white sofa beside her superior, Roy Mustang whereas Fuhrer Grumman sat on the opposite.

"Do you both have any idea as to why I have called for you to come meet me today?"

Roy and Riza exchange glances before deciding to shake their heads completely.

The Fuhrer takes a deep breath. "As it should be with every grandfather out there,"

The brigadier general's onyx eyes immediately drifts to his left, where his lieutenant sat.

"It is with great with difficulty to be saying this but nevertheless it is from the heart. I know that you've been a lieutenant for years now, Elizabeth, and I couldn't be more proud of you for rendering your services for this country." Fuhrer Grumman fixes his glasses on his granddaughter who listened to every word. Riza Hawkeye cracked him a smile and nodded at this in absolute humility like she always does.

"However," This mere conjunction causes her to slightly jerk in position.

_Why do I have a bad feeling about this? _In discomfort, she gulped as her eyes uneasily fell on the ground.

"I believe you've rendered enough services to the military."

"Fuhrer—" Brigadier General Mustang abruptly stood in protest. From his peripheral vision, he could see his subordinate's eyes upon him. It was as if she were pleading him to sit down and as a sign of respect, Roy takes a glance at her and obliges to sit.

Grumman folded his arms. "General, I believe my granddaughter has served you with utmost sincerity and fidelity. We both know she has done an impeccable job throughout these years even if I hadn't had the chance to personally speak to her."

Without any hesitation, the high ranked officer proudly nods his head. "She has been a valuable asset to my team. If you remove her from my team, it would be a great loss. Moreover, Lieutenant Hawkeye has been a great soldier."

Giving the high ranked officer a nod, Grumman responds. "I am aware, general. This much I know but as her grandfather, I want my granddaughter to live a life without worrying whom to shoot next. I would like her to take a break and for her to live with me."

"But Fuhrer I can't impose. I have my own apartment." Riza told her grandfather most earnestly

"Well, I can't keep a close eye on you that way, can I?" Fuhrer Grumman cozily sank into the white sofa before continuing, "Besides, it would be a shame, I already had Isobel dispatch my crew to furnish your new room. If you don't like it, we could have it changed."

_This is uncalled for. _She bitterly thought as she bit her lower lip. _Every year he asks a bizarre favor from me but this, oh this is just insane. What exactly is he planning on doing by insisting on my early retirement?_

In discretion, her russet eyes shift to the man beside her. Roy Mustang sat calmly with the most unfathomable expression. He would occasionally nod with a thing or two the Fuhrer would say like he actually agreed on _every_ word.

…She couldn't help but feel a _little_ trapped.

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><p>ST writes: This will be my last installment (or not) under the FMA section before I quit for good. Please consider this as some form of redemption for my past works. I dedicate this work to OTP, Kurissyma, Night Alchemist, MSD and my late friend, Angel Who Can't Fly—you are terribly missed.<p>

I am yet to finish _High Treason_ and _One Christmas Eve_, which I have both written over two years ago. I am unsure whether these stories will be put to permanent hiatus or discontinued; however, I am sure that _The First Granddaughter_ will be my first priority. I have successfully written the third chapter so far and fortunately, I'm on my semestral break so there will be enough time for me to write.

Whether you noticed my absence or not, I've missed this community so much. Oh yes, before I forget—I'm now a senior in high school if some of you are wondering. I'm graduating soon!

As always, please read and review!

Sincerely yours,

SakuraTeardrop

(October 2010)

Edited: 7/20/14


	2. Dismissal

Chapter 2

-Dismissal-

Dreading Mondays, like any normal person would, was a widely popular norm with the country of Amestris. Though Sundays initially mark another start of the week, Mondays reminded society that, _well_, the weekend was definitely over and it was time to brace the busy life once again.

Unlike everyone else however, Lieutenant Hawkeye was immune to the "Monday Syndrome"—as Havoc called it. If anyone knew her well enough, she was quite indifferent to Mondays and any other week for that matter. To Riza Hawkeye, work was one and the same despite her hectic schedule everyday.

Having nabbed the titles "Ice Queen" and "Central's Most Excellent Sharpshooter", Hawkeye upheld a powerful reputation in the military. She wasn't just another typical girl in the military—she was a genuine _soldier_.

That morning when she came to sign in for work, almost all pairs of eyes fell upon her. And although she did notice their "discrete glances", as usual, she wore an unfathomable expression on her face.

_News always travels fast, doesn't it?_ She sighed inwardly, walking past the soldiers who flashed mixed emotions of apathy and pity. It was inevitable and no way around it because people, one way or another, will eventually talk.

Hawkeye stopped at her tracks, feeling that someone was right behind her.

Without anticipating it, a hand suddenly flew to her back. "Just walk. We need to talk."

"…Daniel?"

It was indeed the man enjoying free lodging from the Fuhrer; a man she clearly hadn't taken a liking to. "What in the world are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk to you." He simply says, urging her to walk.

Seeing as he looked serious, she put her biases aside despite him being a bit dubious.

She walked with him.

Taking a brief look around and making sure no one was within earshot, Daniel spoke in a hushed tone.

"I don't think Fuhrer Grumman has been entirely truthful to you."

Angrily storming inside the Fuhrer's office, Riza Hawkeye found the Fuhrer sitting behind his large desk, looking curiously up at her amidst the pile of paperwork.

This wasn't going to be pretty.

"Marry _your_ chosen successor?"

Grumman, who wasn't expecting anything new today, was quite positive the day was going to be longer than it usually lasted.

Yes, today was going to be a long Monday all thanks to that _blasted_ Daniel.

"….Ah, Daniel told you." He quietly says, as if he knew it were indeed a matter-of-fact. It actually didn't come as a surprise to him that the lad had revealed his playbook because of an argument they had the previous night.

He had no choice but to confirm it anyway. "He is right, for the most part."

The first lieutenant flashed an expression of disbelief. "So the main reason for my immediate withdrawal from the military was to find me a suitable husband?"

He laced his hands together and let a sigh out. "Elizabeth, I've explained to you a thousand times that it primarily concerns you having a real life. As a citizen of Amestris. Not as a soldier."

"This _is_ my life." Riza retorts with her eyes glowering. "I am a full grown woman. Don't you think I'm capable enough to deal with my own life choices?"

"I don't doubt your capabilities." He lets out another sound sigh before continuing. "I know from the other officers that you are strong-headed, hard-working, loyal which is why I'm afraid."

"Afraid?" She asked, not following where the conversation was going.

Averting his gaze all too quickly, Grumman went back to reading the filed reports he received that morning. "Over the years, I've have missed watching you grow into this beautiful, smart, strong woman."

He then affixes his round glasses on her stoic expression. "And frankly, I can say that they are right. You have grown into this beautiful, strong-headed person but I'm afraid you'll never find…what makes _you_ happy. You've devoted yourself to the military all these years and put others before you all the time; but have you ever stopped to ask yourself what _you_ wanted for a change?"

...That's right. What did _she_ want?

She spent all her years in the military serving her friend and commander, Brigadier General Mustang, but the question remains. What, exactly, did she want? Of course, she knew she had the obligation to follow him until the end but was it the life she had always wanted for herself?

It was ironic because in her childhood, she spent the time doing what mothers or wives did on their spare time. Losing her mother at a fairly young age, the domestic work has been passed down to her—the only girl in the family. The villagers had always thought that the infamous Berthold Hawkeye, her father, would marry her off someday when she came off age.

Instead, the girl became the military's finest, well-respected sharpshooter, much to everyone's shock and dismay.

In all honestly, she hadn't really thought about what she wanted do. Like any other girl, she always dreamed of a beautiful wedding, but after entering the military, the thought of marriage just suddenly became a lost cause. And now, with her grandfather as the new president of the country, he had the power to withdraw her from the military just to grant her a normal life.

She found herself looking into her grandfather's eyes, her anger dying down. "...I don't really know what you're asking from me, sir."

"I want you to be happy." He said most earnestly. "My dear, you may think I'm the worst relative you have right now but I only mean well. I want you to understand that I'm doing this because you mean so much to me. I know you have duties and responsibilities to this military; however, I have a duty as a grandfather-

And that is to see you live happily."

"I understand you feel that way but is marriage a necessary bonus…?" His granddaughter questioned, eyes steady on him.

He flashed a bright smile. "You'd be surprised that quite a number of men in the Central HQ are vying for your love."

She merely responded with a, "Men are _fools_, sir. They spend most of their days drooling over women than actually paying attention to their paperwork."

The Fuhrer would only smile wider. "Is that what you think about Brigadier General Mustang?"

The lower ranked officer pauses, unsure why he brought up her commanding officer but she responds that, "He is no exception."

He simply chuckles at her response. "He is quite a fellow, isn't he?"

She couldn't help but smile.

Grumman nodded. _Indeed, what a man he is_.

_-start of flash back-_

"Fuhrer, how about a game of chess?"

In confusion, Grumman quickly turns to his subordinate. "Chess, general?" the old man repeats, making sure he did not mishear anything.

Mustang nods politely. "Chess."

"What exactly are you trying to get at, general?" Out of curiosity, a smile forms on Fuhrer Grumman's lips.

"If I win, lieutenant gets to stay in the military and gets to keep her apartment. If you win—"

"If I win," The old man interjects. "She will still retire early, live with me and marry my chosen successor."

Roy's chest had tightened upon the mere mention of a "successor" and "marriage". Why? He couldn't decipher the reason but one thing was for sure, he couldn't afford to lose.

Quite confidently, he answered with one salute. "May the best man win, sir."

As always, Roy was given the black pieces because Grumman jokes that he burns people alive until they're crisp black and that it best resemble who he is.

"Shall we begin, sir?"

"Oh please," The Fuhrer responds with a smile, moving his pawn two spaces forward "I was born ready and I've already formulated a plan that will lead to your defeat."

"We'll see." Mustangs says as he makes his move.

"Brigadier General," The Fuhrer converses while making another move. "What do you say if I gave my granddaughter's hand in marriage, to Daniel Hays?"

He literally froze. Mustang's eyes remain locked on the Fuhrer's queen who had several pawns barricading her. He carefully lifted his gaze. "I do believe that she has a right to choose whomever she desires to marry."

The highest-ranked officer in the country merely nods at the answer. "I suppose you do have a point; however, she is of marriageable age. I want to see to it that she would fall into good hands."

"It is understandable you feel liable for your own relative."

Mustang knocks down another one of General Grumman's pawns. "But, he's not the right one. The man is insane."

A smile forms on the Fuhrer's chapped lips. "He's General Hays' son. He's been a bachelor for years and manages a corporation at his young age. This chess board—believe it or not—was manufactured by his company." He taps at the side of the chessboard.

"I see, I wonder what he's like at chess." Roy couldn't help but think aloud.

"Supreme. He's very good. He need not use his queen as a last resort. He assembles his troops very well. I assure you that the queen is well guarded with his fortress of soldiers." Grumman folds his hands unto his lap and watches the Brigadier General's mouth slightly twitch.

Roy looks up at Grumman as he watches him make another move on the board. The white queen remains untouched. "The queen doesn't need protecting."

"Despite the power and prestige, the queen is still a woman. Leave her in the battlefield and she is bound to perish. The queen needs to be strong which is why she needs a king."

The lower-ranked officer continues to watch by. These words rang in his ear constantly and it was deafening. "Sir, have you ever thought that just maybe, the king needs the queen? Why do you think the rules of chess are as follows? How come the queen is bestowed with such power exceeding the king's potential? I believe she stands independently as she is."

"Well, Brigadier General, that's an interesting ideology but I stand by my principles. Women are still women."

He stops for while, and looks up at the Fuhrer. "Your queen isn't yours to keep forever. One day, you'll have to let your guard down."

"Not if I'm skilled at chess."

The game had come to a close when the flame alchemist had lost and gave up on trying to beat him through several re-matches. As a man of his word and honor, there was nothing more he could do except _hope_ for the best.

Still, it wouldn't keep him from convincing the Fuhrer that Daniel was a total _dumbass_.

After her morning visit at the Fuhrer's office, the first lieutenant had been pacing back and forth across the office with her eyes pinned down on the floor. She looked like she was quite deep in reverie. Naturally, this garnered the boys' immediate attention. Second lieutenant Havoc, Master Sergeant Fury and Second Lieutenant Breda had their eyes glued to the poor officer.

Fury cautiously leaned in towards Havoc and whispered, "_Do you think she got into a fight with the colonel_?"

"… _Probably_." A lump rose in Havoc's throat. "_This doesn't look so good either way. I've never seen her so…bothered_."

The truth was, Hawkeye had never been this troubled in her life. She was known for keeping this unbreakable composure or at least, that's what her "poker face" usually showed. No poker face of hers can surely hide her feelings away from this one.

Riza's brows furrowed and Havoc's mouth gaped open, giving him the opportunity to whisper to Breda and Fury. "_She actually has feelings!"_

"_This obviously has everything to do with the colonel."_ Breda sighed as a matter of fact.

Fury's eyes widened as he pieced together his own theory. "_He must've told her he was being transferred to the north! Well of course that would devastate her. They've been very close."_

As if entirely reading those three individual minds, Hawkeye turned her head in their direction. In panic, Kain Fury strode away, Breda swiveled his chair back to his own desk whereas Havoc feigned doing paperwork.

"Lieutenant Havoc." She said sternly, sensing that the boys must have knowledge about _the news _as well.

Havoc's head immediately snapped up and felt the beads of sweat trickling down his nervous body. "Uh. Yes, ma'am?"

"_Don't be obvious!"_ He mentally screamed as he calmly faced her. Ironically, he tensed when he realized she was just three feet away from him.

"What are you whispering there?"

"Well." Havoc began rather calmly. "Me and the boys...er…I mean…the boys and I were discussing matters on paperwork."

_Shit_. He mentally cursed as she decided to walk up to him instead.

He gulped.

She wasn't convinced.

With hands on her hips, the first lieutenant leaned near him. So close…he could feel her faint breathing down his neck.

"…You're lying." She whispered. "That would be deceiving your _superior_ officer. And I promise won't let you slide."

He froze in _fear_.

This is why it was never wise to conceal the truth from Hawkeye because she was bound to find out anyway. Besides, he wasn't a very good liar.

Like what he was best known for, he gave in.

"I apologize, ma'am, we were just worried that you and the colonel got into a fight."

She merely blinked as a response. "We didn't. Does that satisfy your curiosity, soldier?"

…_So they didn't know?_

Havoc was stumped.

Luckily, Haysman Breda, had interceded. "Lieutenant Hawkeye, you know there's absolutely nothing you can't tell us that we wouldn't understand. We're…"

"Family. I know." Riza sighed, rubbing her temples. She knew the line for Brigadier General Mustang would often repeat it again, and again. It was a constant replay on her mind.

The three boys jerked in surprise when she spoke, "If you haven't already heard—which

I'm positive you boys haven't— I'm retiring early. Fuhrer Grumman clearly believes I can have a better life granted I stay with him in his grand estate."_-_leaving the part where she was to marry her grandfather's chosen successor purposely out.

_No wonder_, they silently thought, _no wonder she's a tad bit boggled today_.

"But Hawkeye," Sergeant Kain was first to speak, "You've been working here for ten years now since you were eighteen. Why would his Excellency ask you to retire all of a sudden?"

"Yeah, I mean, you've done an amazing job getting us in line!" Havoc added with a smile.

Lieutenant Hawkeye then turned to Second Lieutenant Breda, "It wouldn't be the same without you."

For the first time today, she smiled. Although it was half-hearted, the _point_ was, she did. One of the things she'll miss about the boys is their sincerity and love towards her as their "older sister". Oh, their _big brother_ will definitely be proud. On Lieutenant Hawkeye's first day as Roy Mustang's aide, he had introduced her as, _"A very good friend of mine. She is Hawkeye-sensei's daughter and I want you all to treat her like family.."_

Reminiscing this thought, she still held her smile in place. Without noticing it, a tear had trickled down her cheek.

"Hawkeye! You're…"

Crying. She didn't even know she was up until she saw the tiny droplets ruin her signature in one of the documents. She quickly swiveled her chair away from her subordinates. Forcefully, she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Get back to work." She ordered firmly.

Obediently, the boys turned to their own work half-heartedly. However, their eyes still followed her through their peripheral visions. The female soldier stood up and grabbed her coat.

"I'll be back in five minutes."

With that, she left the room and the men were dumbfounded.

She just needed to get away from everything even just for a minute. Truth be told, she had grown to love this everyday routine of being a soldier and having been told to leave all that all of a sudden is just too surreal...

"Riza." A familiar voice called upon her.

She wasn't so quick to lift her head up but when she did, she saw Brigadier General Mustang standing in front of her. She blankly stared at him as if she was looking through him.

"…General." She said with a half-hearted smile.

"I just had to come to see you—" He trailed off upon seeing the stray tears in her eyes.

Granted he never saw her this way before, he paused for a while not knowing what to say without sounding awkward. The General always viewed his subordinate as someone headstrong that it makes him forget that she's the only woman in his team.

He shakes his head.

_She's still a woman_.

Hawkeye already tried her best to avert her gaze but it failed for he wasn't that of an idiot. The lieutenant's initial instinct was of course to flee but upon hearing the footsteps draw nearer to where she stood, it was like her feet were glued to the floor.

She couldn't bring herself to move any further.

"You're upset." Roy told her, pocketing his hands as he took a few more steps.

"Hardly." She replied using her stern voice.

He takes another step towards her. "This is about your retirement."

Riza lifted her eyes once more and yet, remained silent. He was now exactly a meter away from where she stood. She knew he wasn't going anywhere so there was no point in trying to evade it.

"I never thought it would be hard to leave all this behind."

He wasn't naïve; he knew exactly what she was talking about.

The flame alchemist stared at the tiled floor before saying. "We've been fighting side by side for ten years and I genuinely enjoy your company as my aide but Riza," He levels his eyes with hers, "I'd give the world to see you have a _life_. Your life."

The first lieutenant's response was to look at him dejectedly.

"Hear me out." He says to her quietly. "I know it's not easy to give up something you've had for ten years but I happen to know committing yourself to your job would be at the expense of having a normal life. The Fuhrer only wants what's best for you and I do too."

"Thank you, but I don't know if I could live the life you and Fuhrer Grumman would want me to." Hawkeye says stoically. "It's kind of late for that, don't you think?" she looks through him with her russet colored eyes.

He felt nothing but lamentation washing over him. Moreover, he knew very well where she was getting at.

She laid her hands in front of her and continued, "I took a life—lives for that matter. I don't deserve to live normally and pretend I can live like a civilian when I'm not. I was trained to be a topnotch sniper of the military not to be a domestic wife. I bear the markings of a sniper. The only reason why I haven't left is because I made a vow to protect you." Riza looks at her palms as she shuts them tight. "I took an oath."

Roy Mustang watched his subordinate bow her head in hesitance. He gritted his teeth. The first lieutenant's faithfulness towards him was irreplaceable and indeed, he was very lucky to have her but she doesn't deserve a life confined to guilt.

She never did.

It was his fault in the first place why she enlisted herself in the military. When asked why she did it, she'd say that she came to find him. Riza literally entrusted her back to him and she had given him her full devotion since that day.

True, he made her promise to follow him until the end but deep inside, he always knew he _had_ to let her go someday.

He just didn't consider the fact that…it would have to be so soon. He and the Fuhrer did come to the agreement that it was indeed for the best.

_Damn the man for being a good chess player._

"As your commanding officer, I am formally dismissing you. A letter of resignation is not required. Your grandfather had already filed in the official documents. As your friend," Roy then places a hand on her shoulder. "I am telling you to live the life your father would want you to have. You may have been corrupted by the evils in the military but I happen to know you still bear the purest of hearts."

When she didn't seem convinced by his use of paradox, he continued, "And it's been ten years, you've done a great job keeping me in line. It's my turn to make sure you follow the right path even if it means you'd have to stray off course from my direction. I wholly owe that to you."

"But sir—"

"I hope you respect my reasons as to why I am siding with Fuhrer Grumman. I don't intend to upset you, please know that."

Half-heartedly, the lieutenant gives him a nod. "He's a great man, sir, I know he means well and I should be obliged to follow out his wishes. And my father would want the same thing…" She trailed off and chose to shut her mouth.

…What was the use in protesting when everyone supports the Fuhrer?

It honestly wasn't easy, but she never disobeyed orders. With all the strength she could muster, she tried to feign a smile.

"It's been a pleasure, sir."

"You will be missed." The colonel, reflecting the gesture, extended his hand towards his subordinate. With no hesitation, she took his hand and shook it lightly. Just as she was about to withdraw her hand, he tightened his grip. "Riza, I want you to be safe. Please take care of yourself."

This left her to contemplate. Even after reaching the office, she stopped at her tracks and sighed.

"Am I really going to leave this all behind just to live the life I've been missing throughout those years?"

Given the limited time to think it over, she couldn't say no. It wasn't in her nature to say no. It was her obligation to say, "yes" because yes wasn't just an option, it was an open _opportunity_ staring at her in the eye.

ST writes: Hello readers of "The First Granddaughter.", I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to you all. I am quite happy to receive several alerts and favorites for this story-I mean-just _wow_. Thank you so, so much! And also to those who reviewed my first chapter, namely, **Theiving Alchemist, Kitsune-Blue, CrescentSnow, animelover199514, Joseph, GeMikanXIII, Dalin Criid and BlackBrightField2007**! Thank you for your kind reviews!

I'm guessing new questions are now surfacing such as,

"Is Daniel _really_ the chosen successor?", "Is Grumman just trying to spit Roy?", or "What happens now to the Royai dynamic?"

or "ZOMG are you updating soon?" Well, I will :) Soon. If you leave a review.

PS I just recently read that Arkawa somehow confirmed in the FMA Art Book Royai's canon! Totally made my day.

Always,

SakuraTeardrop


	3. Yoko's Bar

Chapter 3

-Yoko's Bar-

Word on the street was that there was this _certain_ bar in Central that was well known for its "military accommodation" but it wasn't exactly true that this bar catered to soldiers only; on the other hand, it was undeniable that it was packed with Central officers almost every night. Yoko's Bar was usually buzzing with several night owls consisting of mostly soldiers and a few shop owners. The bar was located not more than three blocks from the Central HQ and Central Square.

Soldiers who worked the graveyard shift found it most convenient that the bar opened all night. With the excuse of "taking a five-minute cigarette break", these soldiers would spend the whole night drinking either beer or coffee while sneaking in some paperwork in the process.

Fuhrer Grumman knew how Madam Christmas operated her business and since they were good friends, he'd let it slide. Though the bar visits constantly robbed the military men of temperance, their work productivity was still more or less moderate.

Like everyone else, Brigadier General Mustang and the boys were regulars on Friday nights, because on Fridays it was "free beer day". And since Fridays ultimately marked the end of a lousy, paperwork-filled week, it was time to celebrate. Besides, who would say no to free beer?

"Another round!" Havoc hiccupped, shakily raising his right hand.

The newbie bartender, Harriet, heard him call so she instantly rushed take his glass mug. It had only been reduced to half, yet he was asking for another. But as Madam Christmas taught her, the drunks were always right and the sober need not say anything because it was easy cash on their end.

Ah, but the way he was conducting himself was absolutely horrid. He blabbered on like a baby struggling to find his first words and he laughed boisterously until he grew as red as a ripe tomato.

She couldn't help herself.

"Mr. Havoc, this is the fifth glass." Harriet warned as she filled the mug.

The dirty-blond lieutenant blinked before responding to this, "Harlot, can't you see I'm trying to drown my misery to oblivion?"

She rolled her eyes, sliding the drink across the table, spilling some of the contents in the process.

"What's she so worked up about?" He raised his brows, immediately chugging down his beer.

"Do you even know what a 'harlot' is?" Kain Fury, who barely touched his drink, shook his head at the poor drunk.

"Har…what?" Havoc stammered, earning him a heavy pat on the back by Breda. "You're totally wasted, bro." Breda laughed, his cheeks flushed, due to his low alcohol tolerance.

Madam Christmas grinned at the scene while polishing the pub table, "Your boys know sure how to live it up seeing as they're enjoying happy hour too much."

A small smile graced his lips, before taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, they won't be laughing too long once they find out that this is all a marketing strategy of yours." He chuckled while she threw him a look.

"Well, I never!" She faked a gasp, scooting in closer to him. "How'd you know?"

"…I don't know. We must be related because I'd do the same thing."

They both laughed in unison as they caught on the joke.

After the laughter died down, Madam Christmas changed the subject. "Haven't seen you in a while. Been busy with that fancy title of 'yers?"

He simply nodded. "It's been a handful."

The bar owner jokingly gave him a wink. "It ain't nothing you can't handle besides you've got Elizabeth-chan on your side."

When he didn't respond to this, his foster mother's eyes softened. "Don't tell me she's been taken by another man?"

"No, not…exactly." Roy sighs in a rather disheartened manner, taking a brief look around him before speaking.

"…Elizabeth's not in the military anymore."

Madam Christmas stood there half a minute, trying to absorb what her foster son had just said to her. All that she came to say in response was, "Why?"

"The Fuhrer decided that he wanted his granddaughter to live a life free of guilt," His eyes suddenly fell to the drink between his hands. "Maybe, he's right. Enough is enough. But I can't tell if what he's doing is really for her best interest. "

Unsatisfied, he adds. "Did you know he betrothed her to Daniel?"

The bar owner was about to respond, but he immediately cut her. "Although, Dan is a dimwit, the Fuhrer believes that this guy can secure her a _future_. I don't think he's eligible."

"What does Elizabeth think of all this?"

"Hard to tell." He muttered, rubbing his temples as he felt alcoholic beverage take effect. "She showed up this morning to collect her things but barely spared us a word. The Fuhrer gave her a week's notice."

His foster mother immediately frowns upon hearing the news.

In all honestly, Madam Christmas had been fond of very fond of Riza and hearing news like this didn't make her very happy.

In fact, she was exasperated.

"Why I'd charge the Fuhrer extra for all this! Elizabeth is _clearly_ suffering! You want me to phone him, Roy boy, because I'll phone him! He may be a patron and this bar wouldn't have been reconstructed without him but just cause' he's Fuhrer doesn't mean he can do everything he wants!"

"Unfortunately, the hierarchy says otherwise." He says as he takes another sip.

"…What're you going to do?"

"I don't know." Roy looks up at his foster mother as he spoke, "The Fuhrer is holding some sort of grand estate tradition tomorrow night. From what I know, it's similar to a ball. He announces the engagement to all the generals and the bourgeoisie present. It's the first time he's formally introducing her as the first granddaughter of Amestris. I assume since Daniel is running a little late on the event due to his business meeting, the Fuhrer asked me kindly to escort her during the earlier course of evening."

"Knowing that girl, she won't even try to run." Madam Christmas sighs, picking up the rag. "That bastard doesn't know how lucky he is."

"Oh, I'll make sure he _knows_."

A smile crept on her lips, upon hearing those words from her son. "Elizabeth can take care of herself though. She's strong." Madam then pats his arm before circling the bar to tend to an impatient customer.

Barely above whisper, he mutters something only his ears could hear.

"Yet I still worry about her… and I'm afraid I always will."

* * *

><p>The nightsky did not bear many stars that night, albeit the sky still held some light lent by the moon. It was around a quarter past midnight but Riza could not fall asleep. She wasn't used to occupying such a big bed, let alone a bedroom that doubled the size of her old apartment. With a sigh, she pulled herself up from bed and draped her shawl across her back.<p>

She made her way across the marbled floor that her grandfather _especially_ picked for her suite. Although she made it clear that she had no specifications, he still made sure the room resembled a five-star hotel. Once Riza saw the suite, her jaw dropped. It wasn't because she was thrilled or anything but it was out of disbelief.

Her grandfather somehow gained knowledge that chrysanthemums were her favorite flower. As a result, the walls were in a hue of pink and patterns of white chrysanthemums and dandelions were strategically painted on it.

When she first entered the suite, the first thing that caught her eye was the giant golden chandelier that lit the room. It was absolutely breathtaking as it hung on an iron chain that was suspended five feet from the ceiling. Being old fashioned with the interior, the Fuhrer had thrown in some silver candelabras that were available on all sides of the suite.

She was with no doubt grateful but she couldn't help but think that it was a tad bit…too grand.

After moving in earlier, she was overwhelmed to be greeted by a row of maids. Granted that she was never born with a silver spoon in her mouth, she saw no need for these services.

For the most part, she just wanted to spend the day alone despite Daniel and Grumman enumerating all the possible things she could be doing in the grand estate. It was also partly because activities like polo and horse racing weren't really her forte.

Riza Hawkeye always classified herself to be an introvert—this meant she valued alone time more than anyone in this mansion did. She managed to convince her grandfather that she was tired and really needed the rest, which bought her several hours of alone time.

While, everyone in the estate lay in deep slumber, Riza, stood atop the balcony connected to her room.

As her eyes wandered to the dark night sky stretching out far-off to the city, she propped her elbows on the balcony's railing, wondering if this was all some sort of twisted dream. It was all too surreal for her. Of all the generals in the city, her eccentric grandfather had been chosen to lead the country as _Fuhrer_. With one word, he made it known to all that his granddaughter was to withdraw from the military, not caring to state the reason. For a week now, she had been the center of controversy. Seeing her face pinned on the bulletin board in the lobby this morning, she realized that she never garnered so much attention before.

With the words "CENTRAL HQ'S FINEST SNIPER RETIRES" printed in bold on the military-issued newsletter, she knew that everyone stationed in Central must've heard by now. Below her candid photo, there were around 3,000 words written for that article alone. Somewhere several paragraphs down below, she read some of her comrades names namely, the General, Havoc, Fury, Breda and Falman who had all given their statements on the matter, but what mainly caught her eye was the _one_ paragraph that had Daniel Hays' name all over the place.

_Daniel James Hays, 25, CEO of Hays Chess Inc., is rumored to be Lieutenant Hawkeye's fiancé. The young businessman, who recently closed a deal with Friedmann & Co., was interviewed recently When asked about the matter, the heir to the corporation, neither confirmed nor denied the allegation. _

She tore her eyes away from the blasted newsletter, for she had enough. Of the rumors, of talking and people trying to squeeze their way into her life.

She _needed_ to take a walk. A long one, if possible.

Turning her back on the night sky, she shrugged off her shawl and slipped on the tan over-all coat that hung on her rack.

Smoothing the creases on her coat with both hands, she met her reflection on the full-body length mirror beside her bed. After putting her hair into a neat bun, she entered her walk-in closet to select a pair of brown flats while purposely ignoring the new pieces of clothing and shoes that "magically" came with her closet.

Grumman does really insist for her to dress accordingly and by "accordingly" he meant having to wear all these designer clothes that snobby rich people usually wore.

Frankly, the idea repulsed her. There was nothing like widening the gap between rich and poor by flaunting your status. She inhaled deeply as this crossed her mind.

On the bright side, _Yoko's bar_ was only within walking distance.

* * *

><p>Back at Yoko's bar, Havoc had senselessly drowned himself in alcohol, while crying over another date he lost last week. It got so bad that Fury and Breda had to escort him back to his place from embarrassing himself further.<p>

Madam Christmas shakes her head upon watching the scene before her. _Poor, poor man._

"Havoc's always causing…well… havoc…"

Roy then beamed her a smile, nodding most agreeably. "It's in his name, Madam."

His foster mother laughed a little. "Well, can't deny that, can we? It's about time he went home anyway. He was puking all over the place. Poor Harriet had to mop some puddles off the floor." She said pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

Madam Christmas' new employee, Harriet, who was not more than one and twenty, could be seen moping the checkered floor tile. The very same one Havoc had hurled on earlier.

It was a cruel picture to watch but Roy had found it to be quite humorous.

"If this continues, I'll have to ban him from my establishment." Madam Christmas raised both her brows.

Roy laughed heartily. "Don't worry I'll see to it that he doesn't have another episode."

"Good. Cause' it _pays_ to keep a clean bar. I can't have vermin hanging around when the next inspector comes. He'd shut me down for good. You can say goodbye to Beer Friday

when that fateful day comes."

"Ah, you really shouldn't worry about him. It's just a phase he's going through. He'll get over it within two days…" The flame alchemist says, as if it weren't such a big deal but then after a pausing for a minute, he adds.

"… Before resuming to this drinking-himself-to-oblivion state."

"Which you will fix." His foster mother sternly tells him. "He is your subordinate after all. Give him a guy-to-guy talk and share your moves with him. "

At this point, Roy had begun cracking up at what Madam Christmas said. Share some moves with Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc? Although the man did not lack some sense of allure, he lacked the moves. Big time. And lending him a hand at this department was…kind of like teaching the crippled to run a hundred meter dash.

It _was_ a long shot.

"…You can't say that you're actually quite serious about this."

She eyed him carefully. "I am. Hook him up before I hook him to an IV of beer."

He sighed in defeat. It wasn't an option.

"Fine. I am not making any promises though."

"That's the Roy I know!" Madam Christmas ruffles his raven hair playfully. "Always looking out for others!"

* * *

><p>"One, <em>please<em>. Whatever it is you drink around here."

Madam Christmas and her foster son exchanged glances as both their ears perked upon hearing the familiar voice. Slowly swiveling his bar stool around, Roy found himself staring at the woman seated across the bar.

There could be no mistake.

As if almost automatically, one of the bartenders slid her a mug filled with brewed beer. She sat on one of the bar stools and stared at the mug. Without really noticing, someone had slipped on the stool beside her.

"So, did you come to pick me up?" A very smug and half-drunk Roy Mustang asked as he flashed her a smirk.

"It wasn't my intention." Riza quickly says in reply, not bothering to look at him.

He took it as a permission to laugh. "So, what in blazes are you doing here? You're certainly not here for beer day." He pouted, taking hold of her mug, and drinking a little.

Riza grabbed his wrist, causing him to stop and look at her. "General. I think you had enough of that."

With an apologetic smile, he set down the glass. "I suppose you're right."

He felt her loosen her grip on him.

"I couldn't sleep very well." She confessed. "And this was the only place open at this time of night."

"Were you mistreated?" The flame alchemist asks, genuinely concerned.

"No, on the contrary, I've never been treated so well."

"Then, what's the problem?"

"Nothing, sir." She muttered lamely.

"It's Roy. You don't have to call me that anymore."

That's right. They were _equals_ now and since she was no longer a soldier, she shouldn't address him so formally.

"I apologize. It just seems strange to address you so casually."

"Well, it is odd but odd can be good. Come on," He urges her with a smile. "Try addressing me casually."

"Oh perhaps not, I—"

"I won't tell the higher-ups." Roy jokingly raises his right hand. "I promise."

This causes the former lieutenant to smile. "I suppose there's no harm."

A small smile of satisfaction crept on his lips in turn. It just gave him comfort that even if his aide wasn't going to be with by his side forever, at least they could remain good friends. "I'm guessing the grand estate was excessive for your tastes."

The current smile on her lips instantly dissipates. "It's different but in time, I will grow accustomed to it."

"Just make sure you won't forget us."

"Of course not." Hawkeye answers in reassurance. "Before I left HQ, I made sure to have someone fill my spot to supervise you boys and to fire at those who dare refuse to do paperwork."

"That's what I'd expect from you, Hawkeye." He chuckles before pulling on a straight face. "We're always going to be here for you. We're a team, and don't you forget it."

She gives him a warm smile in response. "I will keep that in mind then."

After a momentary lull of five minutes, he spoke up once again. "…By the way, how in the world were you able to get away from the Fuhrer at this hour? The grand estate boasts of its high-level security detail and yet, here you are. I doubt he'd allow you out on a Friday night on such ghastly hour."

"I said I needed air." She replied, pushing up the hem of her coat high enough to meet her thigh, causing the general to gawk in surprise.

It wasn't until his obsidian eyes met with the shiny metal weapon strapped to her thigh. "They were afraid that I would shoot them on the spot. Apparently, they were well informed on how I was the most feared cold blooded sniper in the military."

Roy then proceeds to laugh. "Clearly, they don't know you like I do."

"You may be tough on the outside, but unknown to most, you have a gentle heart. "

He watched as a faint blush came across her cheeks while she listened. First Lieutenant Hawkeye wasn't the type to blush so easily and knowing he was the cause, gave him a sense of pride. But if he did so much as to tease her about, let's just say he'd end up with a lot of holes in his new coat.

"Ah well," She clears her throat, trying to relieve the awkward situation. "It's getting late. I should be on my way."

"You just came here, Riza."

With that, she slid off the bar stool and he, without meaning to, grabbed her wrist. She turned to look at him, her face painted with nothing but confusion. The chattering and clanking of mugs had been put to a halt in that very moment. It seemed as if time had stopped, and all he could hear was her faint breathing and his heart loudly beating.

Truth was, he was just as confused.

She just stood there waiting for him to say something, _anything_.

Silence...

"Goodnight, Riza."

_Ah, but of course_. What else could it have been?

"Goodnight."

And that was it. She had gone.

"Smooth, Roy. Real smooth." He muttered rather wistfully, his face falling right into his palm.

Roy then swiveled his chair about to find his foster mother frowning at him. It looked like she had been watching them for a while now and she didn't exactly look happy with the result.

"Did you at least tell Elizabeth-chan you love her?"

"…Don't be ridiculous."

Madam Christmas was _very_ amused at this point. "I don't know if you remember, but you used to bring your pal to my old bar every week. And he said the same thing to you when you teased him about his girl. And the funny thing is, he married the girl with a kid and he's never skipped a day telling her that he loves her."

This was enough to make him smile.

"He ended up being the happiest man alive."

* * *

><p>ST writes: To my readers, you might be wondering as to where I have been. Simply put it, I have been working all week long on this chapter. My update gap has dramatically widened. I had some minor problems with the pre-written chapter three and it didn't seem to click so I had to do major revisions and hopefully, you guys liked this chapter. I apologize for the very late update and I promise I will make it up to you. And to those thinking that I will abandon this story, I'm committed to finishing this so it's the least of your worries.<p>

Please leave a review and once again I thank you all for your kind words and for taking the time to read this!

Respectfully,

SakuraTeardrop

5/14/11

...GAAAH. WHY IS THE INDENTION ALL WEIRD. DARN, FF. Btw, I need a beta so desperately. Contact me if you know anyone!

Edited: 6/02/11


	4. Get Ready

Chapter 4

-Get Ready-

CENTRAL HQ'S FINEST SNIPER RETIRES

_Daniel James Hays, 25, CEO of Hays Chess Inc., is rumored to be Lieutenant Hawkeye's fiancé. The young businessman, who recently closed a deal with Friedmann & Co., was interviewed recently. When asked about the matter, the heir to the corporation neither confirmed nor denied the allegation. _

…_He released a statement later on the same day saying that the first granddaughter's betrothal was a private matter. "Rumors on Miss Hawkeye's engagement is actually quite true, but that's about as much as I can reveal as the Fuhrer's right hand man." _

"Tch. Fuhrer's right hand man my ass!" The flame alchemist gritted his teeth, tearing the lower half of the first page that contained Daniel Hays face and words before setting it aflame in his metallic trash bin.

"Conceited bastard."

Snapping his fingers a few more times, he made sure the piece of paper was incinerated perfectly. It gave him a strange sense of satisfaction that the smug businessman had been reduced to a pile of ashes…for now. Since this guy was practically untouchable, prestige-wise, this was how Roy Mustang made himself believe that he was the victor.

As he watched his self produced flames burn a hole through Dan's face, the high-ranked officer snickered at his work, his chest swelling with pride.

"It smells like barbeque in here," Havoc remarked, pinching his nose.

The second lieutenant closed the door behind him and proceeded to head to his boss' desk. Once he got there, he tossed the folder filled with paperwork on the General's desk.

Roy gave him a glance before skimming through the two-inch thick paperwork.

"Very good. You've read every single one." He warily eyes his subordinate, wondering where this diligence was coming from. Nodding at the signatures and coded stamps on each document, Roy eyed Havoc again.

"I'll review them tomorrow morning."

Havoc's azure pools shifted to the monthly edition of the Central HQ newsletter on his superior's desk. _Well, surprise, surprise. The General doesn't usually pay attention to newsletters given by the military…unless…hmm. This is interesting. _

"Heyyy, you've taken interest in the newsletter."

The General stared at him in response, shutting the folder completely. "I'm concerned about my subordinate's welfare, lieutenant. That is all." He then picks up the newsletter. "…Half of what's written here is…fabricated. And clearly, this writer was not objective enough with his insights. I really don't see the purpose of publishing ridiculous gossip on a newsletter. A newsletter is supposed to be professionally informative with concerns about the military."

Second Lieutenant Havoc yawned as he watched his superior's face scrunch up each time he'd bash the newsletter in hand. The lower-ranked officer lazily blinked, not bothering to listen to his commanding officer, whatever the general was saying anyway, had become entirely inaudible for him to hear.

It was as if he were submerged in a pool of water that was unable to carry all the sound waves present.

_Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. _

"…So basically, you're jealous, right?"

Caught in the state of what one would call perplexity, the general narrowed his eyes at his junior officer who apparently just told him _he was jealous_. The flame alchemist cocked his brow and tilted his head in confusion.

"What makes you think I'm jealous—"

"Well," The soldier began in a hushed tone. "For starters," he eyed the burnt material in the bin that had a bit of soot coated on it. "You burned half of the newsletter…quite…roughly if I may add. And If I'm not mistaken, Hays had his picture printed on the lower half of the page."

Roy moved his eyes to the half-torn first page of the first lieutenant's famous article. It had been torn up badly that it left the glossy page frayed and rather impossible to read.

The only thing preserved of the material was the smiling face of his dear lieutenant.

Jean's face finally softened. "Say, you like her, don't you?"

"She's my aide. Of course I like her." He promptly answered, then as if to convince Havoc…or maybe himself otherwise, he adds,

"_As a friend_."

"As a friend." The second lieutenant repeats flatly like he wasn't exactly buying it. The phrase _as a friend_ did not seem to register in his brain because as far as he's concerned, he has seen _everything_.

Oh like the General _never_ favored her. Right. He snorted at this thought.

It was a habit of his to leave those personalized notes—love notes, perhaps—on her desk and her desk alone. And during those rare occasions wherein he would actually be there to supervise, the only subordinate he actually cared to pay attention to was Riza and nobody else. Once more, most of his "dates" were really just informants and he never seemed that attached to anybody as he was with Hawkeye.

"So of all your good-looking subordinates, you just happened to anoint the girl with pretty eyes as your right hand woman?"

Roy folded his hands on the oak table's surface. "Well in my defense, Lieutenant Havoc, the 'girl with pretty eyes' did outrank and outgun every single one of you. Now, if you don't have any further business with me," he muttered. "I'd like for you to channel this newfound diligence elsewhere."

"'Kay."

Havoc gave his boss a toothy grin before exiting, the very same grin Maes had used on him every time he would piece the words "wife" and "married" together like it got along so well.

It was too damn familiar.

The poor alchemist shivered. "_How can Maes still give me chills beyond the grave?"_

* * *

><p>"Does this selection, please you, Miss Riza?"<p>

Riza Hawkeye's mouth gaped open at the colorful sets of clothing being paraded around her specialized suite. There were at least three rolling garment racks parked in her room and at least four maids lined up in a row waiting for further instructions.

Certainly, she wasn't expecting anything like _this_ when her grandfather told her about preparing a selection of dresses for her to choose from in line with the Fuhrer's ball tonight. And to think her current closet was already a walk-in mall to begin with.

If anyone knew Grumman well, he never believed in playing second fiddle to anyone. It was in his blood to boast and therefore, striving to be the absolute best in everything at all costs came naturally to him but never to those around him.

Seeing as the first granddaughter wasn't keen to respond, Isobel nervously turned to the maids before speaking once again, "Miss Riza? If these sets do not please you, I can ask for new sets within the hour. We hired the best clothing lines in all of Amestris."

Silence.

"Miss… Riza?" The poor secretary tried again, this time her voice a bit shaken.

Riza pursed her lips, truthfully, not knowing what to say in reply. Turning to the Fuhrer's brunette assistant who immediately straightened upon eye contact, she nodded her head at the garment racks. "This will suffice, Isobel. Thank you."

The young green-eyed assistant regained a smile, and breathed more loosely this time. _Thank goodness. _It took months rounding up all those famous clothing lines after all, which meant rounding up new sets within the hour nearly…impossible. It was no easy task being secretary to the Fuhrer.

"Would you like to try them on, Miss?" One of the maids beamed, as two other maids came rushing to leaf through the colorful palette of dresses.

Isobel reached out to the blue midnight dress, commenting how the dark hue would bring out the lieutenant's _curvy figure_. One of them argued that any dress would just heighten Miss Riza's beauty and that she was gorgeous enough already.

When they couldn't decide which dress best suited Grumman's granddaughter, all five heads whipped into her direction, pining for an opinion.

"What's your favorite color, miss?" The older maid asked.

_Ah, that's…hmm. _She swam in her head; trying to recall what sort of shade appealed to her best.

Blue?

Hmm… too military.

Was it yellow?

Er… too bright and ecstatic.

Oh perhaps it was green?

…she wasn't_ that_ patriotic.

White then?

…..

Hawkeye heaved a sigh openly. After randomly going through the primary colors in the color wheel, she had come to a conclusion. It was definitely, absolutely, without a doubt…

"Red."

Riza's mouth was open, but the voice wasn't exactly hers…

It belonged to someone who had the voice of authority, someone who loved living in grandeur, someone who could do away with a person he didn't like with one word and definitely the same someone who stole the words right out of her mouth.

Why, it was none other than the Fuhrer president himself gracing the room with his flashy badges and crisp military apparel!

With his hands clasped behind his back, he approached the small group of ladies and clapped a hand on his granddaughter's shoulder. "It is red."

He turned to her knowingly. "Isn't it, darling?"

She batted her lashes for a few times. "That's right."

_Was there anything else he didn't already know about her? _

"The color red symbolizes ardent passion and undying courage." Grumman held his smile in place. "Which is why red is quite popular among lovers and war flags but tonight," his thin lips curved into a rather ambitious smile.

"But tonight, my granddaughter _will be_ a vision in red! I've rounded up all the technical geeks in Central and they've agreed to bring in some fancy lights for the night. Upon announcing you, as my granddaughter," He drummed his fingers on the nearest table surface for some effect.

With the final tap, everyone in the room gulped.

Now, the suspense brought an ominous chill in the room.

It was hard to predict what sort of outlandish plan Grumman had brewing up his sleeve. Having been dubbed as the "Eccentric General of the East" in the past, the man who now possessed unstinting power was frightening.

"Boom!"

He guffawed, framing Riza's face from afar with his two hands. "The lights fade out as the spotlight closes in on my lovely granddaughter and my future successor. Oh how beautiful that would be!"

Riza choked at the idea. "You can't be serious."

Sharing the same bloodline as the Fuhrer was one thing, but having to be the center of attention for it, oh that was just the _cherry on top_, wasn't it?

Talk about anticipation.

* * *

><p>The lazy afternoon dragged on as last minute preparations in the grand estate's main ballroom had been finalized and completed. But before that had to happen, organizers walked back and forth across the large proximity, directing about 20-30 people where to put the drapes, extra tablecloths, vases of flowers, the ice sculpture and other centerpieces. Likewise, executive chefs busied themselves in the kitchen preparing to cater a full course meal to 500 guests later that evening.<p>

Shortly after checking up on the first granddaughter, Isobel, together with Fuhrer Grumman, had come in to inspect the ballroom. Pleased with how the preparations were turning out, he announced that he'd be paying a generous amount after all.

After months of preparing the place, the once, empty, quiet ballroom was now bustling as it slowly came to life. What used to be the white walls dirtied by the sands of time became a lively hue of cornflower yellow and the dirty purple drapes on each wide window were now replaced with the majestic red velvet ones that had been washed and dusted clean.

The "techy geeks" Grumman was referring to came in later that day to install the lights the man had asked for right above the dance floor. Nobody questioned the oddity of the request due to the fact he was the Fuhrer, but they just assumed it was to party it up. For the techy geeks, it was an absolute privilege and honor to have a role in preparing for the Fuhrer's ball because it wasn't everyday wherein the Fuhrer would drop by a local shop to ask for assistance. Upon laying eyes on the Fuhrer that very afternoon, the geeks did their best to impress the man who hired them.

A sigh of relief left their trembling lips when the old man uttered a single word in their direction.

"Perfect."

* * *

><p><em>The paperwork has been finally completed for the day! <em>

"What a nice feeling~" The flame alchemist beamed, immediately picturing the hot bath waiting for him back at his apartment. He'd like to think it was some sort of reward after a long, dragging day that drained him all his energy. Come to think of it, wasn't this the first time he _ever_ finished early? Lieutenant Hawkeye would usually have to pester him non-stop about writing reports and approving documents but today, he crossed the finished line without being held at gunpoint.

Thanks to the "Fuhrer's Ball", apparently, some Grand Estate Tradition, the Fuhrer declared that every personnel can have the afternoon off today provided that they show up in the morning to finish whatever requirement the Military requested from them. As a result, several officers had put on their "game faces" and finished as much work as they could just to be able to have the afternoon free.

Hell, if the Fuhrer used this technique everyday, everyone would be working within this new found light of diligence.

Roy chuckled as he made a sharp turn on 3rd street. After spotting a stout, petite woman hauling a cart of flowers by the side walk, he pulled over his car and rolled down his window.

"How much for the flowers?"

"What kind?"

He didn't have to think twice.

"chrysanthemums."

"2000 cenz."

Roy deadpanned. "That's for one dozen, right?"

"Nope. 2000 each." The old lady cracks him a familiar smile."because I know you can pay with your salary as General."

Before the General could utter a word, the lady silenced him by overtaking him. "By the way, Olivier and Alex will be present in the Fuhrer's ball tonight. Just thought you'd want to know, Mr. Brigadier General."

The Northern Wall of Briggs was in town eh? Ah, that woman was sure unpredictable. After earning a seat with the rest of the generals, she took matters into her own hands and assassinated her fellow generals who were much too blinded with promised immortality.

For a while, she was Central's most wanted. The military offered a 1.5 million cenz reward for her capture _dead or alive_ (though the latter was much preferred) as the military police sought after her at the same time. They were commanded by the upper echelons to kill her on sight, much to her younger brother's apprehension.

But Fate wasn't cruel.

As Lieutenant General Grumman rose to power, he proclaimed General Olivier Armstrong among many others as the heroes that divulged the dark secrets of the upper echelon. Subsequent to pacifying the turmoil sparked by the coup d'etat, the new Fuhrer together with the new council, made up of citizens elected to their position, passed on several bills and treaties to repair relations with the Ishvalans and the damage done to Amestris.

And once again, the Ice Queen had the throne to Briggs to herself. The fearless Briggs soldiers she had raised couldn't be any happier to receive Olivier in command for the second time. With that, she happily "gave" Mustang the deed to the Armstrong manor to which he politely declined, stating that Major Armstrong is the much deserving recipient.

"_And to think you're better than him by a single strand of hair_." She scoffed, before boarding the train bound for North City.

"I guess I'll be seeing the Armstrongs tonight." He mused, handing her a wad of cash.

"Not just the Armstrongs, kid, expect the whole city." The old Armstrong housekeeper grinned, tying a thin ribbon on the bouquet's stem.

"So, the first granddaughter, eh? It seems like a heavier title than a first lieutenant." she says as Mustang receives the bouquet.

He smiled lightly. "It's nothing she can't handle."

"Well seeing as you have known her for more than a decade now, I can't argue with that."

* * *

><p>ST Writes: I am well aware how short this was ;A; and for that I do apologize. If I continue any further, it would sound dragging and it would take me forever to finish this chapter. I decided to split the chapter by writing about the Fuhrer's Ball in the fifth chapter instead. I've been watching FMAB for the past few weeks so that pretty much sums up the reason why my update for the fourth chapter had been delayed. The FMA remake based on the manga is just so much better than the first. It's very<em> loyal<em> to the manga, And since I'm back to my FMAB marathon, I'm inspired to write more. ;) Oh why is Royai so bittersweet? WHYYYYYY.

PS Ball chapter next! Believe me when I say, I AM ON IT.

It will be up soon. SOON.

As always, your reviews make me happy!

Ah, forgive me, I do have bad manners, I have forgotten to thank you last chapter!

Thank you **snakebite3, HitsuKarin-sama, chiyo, MeowingWolf, ILoveAnonymity, Evil-Chibi-Tiffy, OTP, CrescentSnow, SasoriSweet19, Veronique Ruthven, Thieving Alchemist, awesomenaruto, SweetAngel91, aaorangenime, Keynn, Kuryu, Quicksilverink, justme467, Dalin Criid, Anon, Bliss, BlackBrightField2007, PokemonFreak90, jbean13 **and** AeroRace**

You are the reason why I continue to write :) I promise to reply to your lovely reviews soon!

Edited: 6/02/11


	5. Center Stage

The First Granddaughter

-Center Stage-

* * *

><p>Vague spoiler for: Vol. 6, Chapter 25 ;) Not that it matters now because I'm very late in readingwatching. Anyway, I thought I should let you know that I did revisions for the past chapters. (And still am)

Enjoy, kiddies!

* * *

><p>The Queen, without a doubt, is the most eminent piece in the game of chess.<p>

Having the combined powers of the rook and bishop, this chess piece was made to move anywhere be it diagonally, horizontally or vertically. This lone fact makes it incredibly hard for a player not to utilize this piece because of what promising power it beheld.

Nevertheless, the flame alchemist would risk leaving his queen untouched - a fact well known about him.

Chess was a game of strategy and critical thinking. And he, Roy Mustang, was definitely not a stranger to both.

The well-known General of East City mutually shared Roy's profound love for chess, which was precisely why he was granted the honor to be the General's worthy opponent. The two officers' friendship was built on many things—from having the same ambition to loving the home-brewed beer at Madam Christmas' bar—but chess was mainly the cement in that friendship's foundation.

Back in the day, Lieutenant General Grumman had been a regular at Madam Christmas' bar in East City. Somewhere between the wooden floorboards, the cheap billiards' table, and the intoxicating smell of tobacco and alcohol, a friendship blossomed with two individuals who envisioned the Fuhrer's throne for himself.

The bar owner's foster son was revealed to be a colonel stationed in the east. The very same colonel, he learned, that his sole granddaughter was working under. Coincidence? Perhaps. But Grumman knew, it_ had_ to be fate at work once again.

On Thursday mornings, Colonel Mustang met General Grumman at his office located in the west wing. For nearly an hour and a half, they would be too engaged with the game of chess to hark any knocks on the door or the telephone's shrill, incessant ringing.

Each with the goal to win in mind, the two individuals would strategize on how they would assemble their troops without sacrificing the good pieces.

Unlike the colonel, General Grumman impetuously used his queen to attack without regard for the consequences. So naturally, Grumman would usually be the victor and Roy would end up losing due to his slight hesitation.

With Grumman's record of 97 wins, it only did so much as to boost his ego. Please, with this winning streak of his, how could he possibly lose?

Only once has the colonel beaten the sly General at chess. And Mustang knew that quite well it it weren't for the fact that this high-ranked official carried a notebook that contained all their scores written in blood red ink. According to the notebook, Mustang had a total of 97 losses, 15 draws and a _single_ win. In fact, he proudly held onto to that single win because not many men stand a chance against Lieutenant General Grumman.

It wasn't up until weeks ago when Roy decided to familiarize himself with the old man's strategy. Fortunately, Grumman only rotated between 2-3 strategies and thanks to their weekly game, and his keen sense of observation, he memorized them well—well enough to know the loopholes that would ultimately lead to the General's defeat without sacrificing his queen.

To him, sacrificing his queen was not a valid option.

The queen was all-powerful, but how could the king possibly be without the queen by his side? The rook, knight and bishop were all meant to defend the king but the queen; she was meant to stand next to him no matter what, wasn't she?

What _kind_ of king would willingly sacrifice his queen?

In any case, victory may have finally smiled at him when he successfully cornered Grumman's king with his knight. Oh what a glorious moment it was! Grumman, who carried the title of "the undefeated chess master", was now overthrown with the words,

"Checkmate."

The General of East City frowned, not quite grasping the fact that his opponent had claimed his second victory. "Damn it." He cursed breathlessly. "I _FINALLY_ LOST!"

"I _finally_ beat you." Roy's thin lips curve into a smug smile.

"I guess it can't be helped." Grumman sighed in defeat, pulling out a small complacent notebook from his pocket. He flips a few pages before clicking his pen. "Hmm. Mustang's record of wins." he reads aloud. "1 win, 97 losses and 15 draws. But this one." He beams at the man who claimed victory.

"This one's special."

The lower ranked officer laughed a little, assembling the pieces inside the chessboard. "I'll gladly take that win, sir."

Grumman nodded approvingly "Speaking of special," he began, "Would you take my granddaughter as your wife? She'll become the future Fuhrer president's wife."

The younger man then lifted his eyes all too quickly.

Of course, Colonel Mustang knew quite well who Grumman's granddaughter was. She was his aide after all—The very same aide who fetched his coffee, piled his paperwork ever so neatly and maintained absolute discipline when it came to their work ethic. The general was obviously talking about Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

However, it wasn't that surprising for Colonel Mustang for he knew that Grumman was a very blunt, straightforward man who didn't believe in beating around the bush. In his head, he could hear the general saying if he were to give his darling "Elizabeth" away, he would be giving her to a man that already gained his trust—like he had always told him.

"You two would make a good couple!" He would often say with his ever-characteristic grin.

In turn, Roy would reply with a half-suppressed laugh, stating that they were merely colleagues. Nothing more. Nothing less.

As always, he dismissed the thought that seemed rather absurd to him. "Don't think too much ahead, General."

Now, the same man who had been promoted to Brigadier General years back was presently descending the tall flight of stairs that led to the grand ballroom. General Mustang smiled almost invisibly as the ballroom glowed in positive vibrancy.

There were more or less 300 guests—consisting of military officials mostly— in attendance. And at least 40 housewives dragged along for the said event.

He could hear the crowd buzzing as they greeted each other with much enthusiasm—each soldier mingling with another whereas bored housewives banded together to pass the time talking about family life.

As he walked further into the crowd, he could make out the sound of strings dominating the other instruments and the clinking of wine glasses as waiters carefully evaded the swarms of guests in order to balance the platter of refreshments. Walking past the colorful sea of men and women chattering away, the flame alchemist automatically nodded to acknowledge the several salutes and half-hearted smiles directed in his path. It was only natural more people recognized him.

He was_ the_ General of East City after all.

Minutes after engaging in inevitable small talk with a few military officials and council members, he finally strutted over to his men seated at one of the round tables situated near the patio.

Falman, the oldest one in the group, was first to acknowledge him. "General."

Followed by Second Lieutenant Breda and Master Sergeant Fury who unintentionally voiced their greeting in unison. "Sir!"

"Hey, chief." Havoc mumbled as a means of greeting, casually slipping the stick of cigarette stick between his lips.

"Gentlemen." The General says in acknowledgement, taking his seat.

Exchanging furtive glances with one another, his subordinates discretely pocketed the bills laid out on the table, hoping their senior officer wouldn't notice them. But alas, this was Mustang—the keenest man in the military.

Needless to say, he _did_.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, boys, what gives!"

Typical. It was typical of Mustang.

He always wanted in.

Even if they-_obviously_- wanted him out. The boys took it as a cue to hoard the remaining cash on the table at a quicker rate. Everyone knows hell hath no fury like General Mustang raising the stakes knowing it was only win-win for him.

"No can do, chief, it's a closed bet."

"Shame." Roy muttered bitterly.

"So, anyway, have you seen Hawkeye, sir?" Fury asked all-too-randomly, eager to divert his superior officer's attention.

"I was about to ask you men the same thing." He confessed.

Havoc grinned mischievously. "_Oh_? So you haven't seen her."

Mustang merely cocked his brow. "…No, I haven't." he reaffirmed, raising his right hand to catch one of the roaming waiters' attention.

"Please, how could _anyone_ possibly see her?" Breda argued, moving his gaze to the sea of guests. "She was practically swallowed alive in there. They're savages, I tell you. _Savages_. Think of it as this one chicken leg being thrown to a pack of wolves. It would be a miracle if she comes out in one piece."

"She's the Fuhrer's only living relative. It's only natural to—" Roy pauses for a bit to thank the waiter who just handed him a glass of sparkling wine— "It's only natural," he begins again. "That people would, you know, _poke and prod_ into the current president's affairs; People are naturally curious. It's unavoidable. And being the first granddaughter of Amestris, she has to deal with a whole lot of people coming from the different levels of this society and most especially the press. I mean, personally, I'd say Hawkeye's reputation is not _that_ bad. I would actually say it's quite good considering she _is_ the face of women empowerment. Think about it, a woman entering the military at a fairly young age and without even knowing it, she was able to outgun all the male trained sharpshooters after practicing for over half a month. Even I couldn't shoot with that much accuracy and precision back in the academy."

Havoc gave his commander a solemn nod in agreement. "Neither could I."

"No one can hit bull's eye like 'The Hawk's Eye'. _No one_. She never misses and if by chance, she has, she must have probable cause to keep that person alive. It takes a single finger to pull a trigger; but it takes a handful of prowess to maneuver such weapon." Fury concurred; feeling queasy all of a sudden as he remembered how Hawkeye shot the beret off his head a week ago, stating that the beret was no longer part of the dress code.

To be fair, she did forewarn him about taking the necessary precautions if he would not adhere to the proper dress code. It wasn't like Fury to break rules at all, so he wrapped his fingers on the old beret, ready to remove it.

_Though_, he thought, it wouldn't be a crime to ask again, would it?

"But Hawkeye, wouldn't it be okay, if I just wore this inside the office—"

BANG!

Never in his life had he imagined what it felt to have a speeding bullet graze slightly above his scalp. The thought would have been terrifying, but the real thing was just as traumatizing. The bullet had gone through the beret and straight into the wall, barely touching his head.

From that day on, Fury never asked Hawkeye for anything. _Anything_.

"…Speaking of Hawkeye, she's headed this way now. Three o' clock." There was a tinge panic evident in the stout soldier's voice.

The boys immediately clammed up, extinguishing the topic at once. They waited until the sound of her heels clicking on the marbled floor became audible, signaling her approach. Once the clicking was brought to a full halt, the boys gulped. All at once, they lifted their eyes in perfect synchronization. And there she was— first granddaughter in the flesh, standing about half a meter from their party.

"…I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?"

The Brigadier General gave her a small smile. "No, of course not."

"Please," He says, gesturing towards the empty seat sandwiched between him and Fury—who was silently praying Hawkeye would refuse the colonel like she normally would.

"Do join us."

Although it was an imperative statement coming from a former superior, she decided that she had to politely decline the invitation. For one, Fury had grown as pale as snow over the course of five minutes upon seeing her approach and two, the Fuhrer had hoarded more of his friends for her to meet.

"It won't be necessary, thank you."

The General nodded most understandably, crossing his arms in the process.

"I suppose you came here to tell me Fuhrer Grumman wishes for me to come and see him…" He trails off as he turns to face his comrades.

"Would you mind, boys?"

"Nope."

"Of course not."

"Not at all, chief."

Roy muttered his thanks in their direction and took it as permission to rise from his seat. After pushing back his chair into place, he extended his arm towards the former lieutenant. "….Shall we, Riza?"

Graciously taking his arm, Riza, together with the general of East city, strayed away from Mustang's party. Those of which left behind eye-stalked their superiors until they were no longer perceptible and out of _earshot_. Fury, the youngest man in the party, was able to finally breathe loosely when his stout comrade had verbally declared that the coast was clear.

"…Since when does General Mustang refer to Hawkeye as 'Riza'?" Breda snorted rather loudly.

Falman shrugged nonchalantly, "Ever since she retired from the military I suppose."

"Must we not forget the fact that he likes her."

The table then broke into a fit of laughter.

"Really, Havoc? I thought we already established the fact that you had _lost the bet_. Gameover, dude, granddaddy's giving her away to some business tycoon. …Now where's that 1000 cenz you promised the us?"" Licking his lips as if he were actually basking in sweet victory, Breda was getting ready to secure his mate's wallet but Havoc was swift enough to inch away before the man had gotten to him.

"Not so fast, tubby." Havoc smirked. "The bet ain't over until Grumman gives the final announcement, gentlemen."

"You did not just call me, tubby! Don't call me that."

"Then don't call the bet just yet."

* * *

><p>Riza Hawkeye was absolutely radiant in red—the floor-length red velvet dress clung to her so perfectly, accentuating her curvaceous body in the most modest way possible. It wasn't too revealing yet she still looked just as gorgeous, if not, more gorgeous than the ladies wearing dresses with a plunging neckline.<p>

All he could think about was how breathtakingly beautiful the woman beside him was. Of course he always thought her to be sensei's pretty daughter, but she was simply glowing tonight.

"It really is too much isn't it?" She frowned a bit, breaking the silence and feeling a bit self-conscious under her superior's scrutiny.

He shook his head in response. "No, not in the least. You look extraordinary, Hawkeye."

_Extraordinary?_ She thought. Most of the Fuhrer's guests complimented her dress or hair, but extraordinary? That was…a foreign word to her. Nay, it was definitely a first. Extraordinary was usually a compliment paid to her skills as a sharpshooter but never to her physical attributes.

It was weird…but nice.

"…Oh…uh…thank you…" There was a slight flush in her cheeks that would have been easily missed. She mentally debated whether she should return the compliment or not seeing as nothing really beats 'extraordinary'.

"Did you like the flowers?" Roy asked her, before she could say anything back.

She was evidently stunned by the question.

…_He_ sent the chrysanthemums up her room earlier this evening? Upon seeing the new vase of chrysanthemums on her desk, she inferred that Grumman must've sent it up to her room, seeing as he researched well about her.

But Brigadier General Mustang? How could he possibly know that chrysanthemums, specifically, were her favorite flower…?

Did he actually know?

It just couldn't be. They've been together for a long time but there was no way he could have known. It wasn't like she openly talked about her favorite flower. In fact, she seldom discussed things as trivial as this.

It had to be a _coincidence_.

"You look stunned." He said with a frown pasted on his face. "So you aren't fond of chrysanthemums anymore?"

The blond woman lifted her gaze to meet his as she spoke. "You know I love chrysanthemums?"

The general mouth curved into a slight smile – something he did out of habit each time he recounts a fond memory. It was September 1903. She was very young at that time, hardly a lady. If, by chance, he recalled correctly, she was already in the blossoming age of fourteen. Elizabeth "Riza" Hawkeye frequently spent her time – or maybe even half of her short-lived childhood – in the kitchen trying to memorize the recipe book handed down for generations in Hawkeye household. If she wasn't in the kitchen trying to make the perfect soufflé, she would be outside gathering chrysanthemums in her freshly ironed skirt. "I've always known. I can't tell you how many times I've caught you weaving a crown of flowers in the yard."

"...I wasn't aware spying was part of your itinerary." She quipped subtly.

Roy softly chuckled, "It wasn't. I was just fascinated how productive you were without having stacks of alchemic books to read in one sitting. I admired you for that—"

"AH THERE HE IS! THE MAN OF THE HOUR!"

There could be no mistake. It was definitely Fuhrer Grumman, president of the country and goofball extraordinaire excitedly waving at him. As soon as the pair came close to Grumman's posse, the circle of the elite members of society parted to make way for the two individuals.

"I'm sure you've all met Brigadier General Mustang," Grumman beamed as he gestured his wine glass towards the man wearing his freshly pressed military apparel. "I've been thinking of promoting him to a higher position, but before I do that, I need to seek your counsel, fellow colleagues."

The answer had been quick.

"Well, he _did_ have a role to play a part in the Ishavalan Magna Carta. He may be too young for a general but I supposed a promotion to a higher position would deem fit. Whatever your decision is, Fuhrer, this circle shall support." One of the generals had spoken, giving Mustang his nod of approval.

"Didn't you just promote him?" Major General Olivier Armstrong scoffed, a usual demeanor of hers each time she didn't feel like being compliant; however, she was a voice that the council listened to.

Grumman had taken a glance at the only woman allowed in his circle and sighed. "Again with the antagonistic role, Olivier?"

"He is incompetent and incapable. His credibility as a general is highly questionable. Though, I do admit, he is slightly better than my inferior brother over here—"

"Enough!" Major Armstrong roared. "He is _completely_ capable. He shaped this country in ways unimaginable. How could you question that kind of credibility?"

"If I may, Fuhrer" General Raven cleared his throat as he gestures towards Roy.  
>"I have worked with this man and as far as I have seen, he has a vision for Amestris; a vision that transcends generations and lines of all other generals. I have seen what he can do and he is worthy of a promotion."<p>

"Alright." Grumman sounded impressed. "That certainly has made up my mind. My deepest gratitude, General."

"Let's take a vote. All in favor of Mustang's promotion, say 'aye'."

In that very moment, General Mustang felt like an outsider. A spectator. He couldn't understand what was going on, really. He stood there, flabbergasted by the whole thing, unsure and taken by the circle of the elite. Next thing he knew, majority of Grumman's posse were voicing out their "ayes" in unison save for General Olivier Armstrong who stood by her views.

Happy with the almost unanimous decision, the group had dispersed and Fuhrer Grumman excitedly turned to his dearest friend with the biggest smile. "The ayes have it. Congratulations. Looks like you're getting promoted, Roy boy." He chuckled, extending his arm towards the man of lower rank.

Roy briefly stared at the Fuhrer's gloved hand before hesitantly shaking it.

"…Sir, what in _blazes_ is going on?"

"I'm promoting you." Grumman shrugs innocently as if it were _that_ simple to him.

Roy wasn't really sure how to react to this. He had only been serving the city for quite some time in comparison to other great generals, which was precisely why this wasn't a bomb he was expecting to be dropped.

Still stunned by the sudden turn of events, he turned to briefly face his former subordinate "But this isn't how promotions work."

Riza had aired her views as well, stating that it was absolutely ridiculous to give someone a promotion after five minutes of thinking about it. It was uncalled for. "With all due respect to General Mustang, you can't just do this. This has to be _discussed_. Thoroughly, if I may add."

"Darling, what's there to discuss?"

"The rank you're granting him." His relative pressed on. "Do discuss."

A wry smile formed on his lips like he had won. "I think we've discussed enough. The council loves him…well… except maybe Olivier but you have to understand she really isn't fond of anyone." The old man guffaws, patting Mustang on the back before proceeding to greet the newly arrived guests.

"You don't what he has up his sleeve." She tells her former commanding officer in a mum manner.

"Well…yes…that is true but this is the Fuhrer were talking to. Refusing him would have awful consequences."

Rolling her eyes, she retorts to her commanding officer. "He's my grandfather, General. _My_ grandfather. Giving in to him _has_ consequences."

"Look, we don't even know what this promotion _is_…" He reminds her, hoping she would be on board like he was. "I honestly don't like where this is going but until I find out what he's up to, let's just go with it. If it is some sort of ruse, then, I won't think twice to flat out refuse him."

"Just _this _once." She cautioned. "But if he's up to no good—"

"_Platform_."

She threw him a look that frankly stated her bafflement over the sudden outburst of the word but it wasn't until her eyes landed on Fuhrer Grumman who, at this point, stood on the podium with a smile so wide.

"Oh God, what is he doing up there?"

After the deafening applause that filled the premises, Grumman took out a small piece of paper and cleared his throat_. "Welcome all!"_

Roy grew absolutely pale.

This was a recipe for disaster.

Was Grumman actually going to disclose everything they talked about just now…?

"_I would like to express my deepest gratitude to you all for being present on such a momentous occasion. Thank you." _He read out loud, earning another round of applause.

"As you all know, I've been previously a Lieutenant General which is why I can say…" Grumman pauses to look at his audience before continuing, "I am very blessed to have been elected as your president and well, to be the talk of the town."

The crowd laughs at the small joke. Grumman carries on.

"But seriously, I wouldn't be standing in front of you and giving you this speech if it weren't for my beloved granddaughter, Elizabeth." He paused to level his eyes with his listeners.

"I have never been more proud to call her my granddaughter, the sole heiress to my wealth and the sole occupant of my heart." Putting down his note card on the table, he gestured towards the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my granddaughter, Riza Hawkeye to the stand!"

Roy breathed rather loosely as he turned to his former subordinate, "Well, I can't say I wasn't expecting that. He is after all debuting you."

"…Why did I agree to this?" She whispered in horror, harboring a funny feeling in her bones.

Everyone in the room practically stared at her. As if that weren't _already_ enough, the lights had dimmed and without warning, a giant spotlight hovered where she stood. Had she tried to move away from the spotlight, it shadowed her like a bodyguard.

It was ridiculous and pointless.

In fact, this whole thing was pointless.

Taking her comrade's arm, she deliberately ignored all the stares and whispers thrown in her way as they ascended the stage. Upon laying his eyes on the pair, Grumman silently signals them both to stay on the center of the stage as he brought the mic to his lips.

"_And may I present General Roy Mustang, East City's beloved leader?" _

And the crowd responds with yet another applause.

"_This man, has been like a son to me throughout these years. Without him, the Ishvalans and Amestrians wouldn't be walking on the same district. Racial segregation would still be an issue. But. This man here, introduced a revolutionary idea that…Ishvalans and Amestrians could have a common ground; therefore introducing the Magna Carta that protected these people." _The Fuhrer eyes the man who remained loyal to him throughout these years.

"_Not many soldiers are bold enough to do what you have done which is why I've decided to give you the highest honor a soldier could possibly receive from me - _

In that very instance, everything seemed very still. And the silence had been simply deafening to Roy. No applause, whatsoever as every individual listened to the Fuhrer carefully.

All pairs of eyes were glued upon the country's president as he breathed the words nobody would expect,

...

"_The hand of my granddaughter."_

It took him minutes to realize the gravity of the president's words. At first, he wasn't sure with what was said; but, when his dark eyes landed upon the worried amber eyes beside him, it confirmed it all.

He was to be Grumman's successor.

* * *

><p>I LIVEEEE!<p>

Excuse my tardiness, dearest readers. I've been kept on a tight leash by college. Yes, college.

I've been drafting non-stop, hardly having any time at all to sleep or even to write. I assure you that

I wrote whenever I could. And I hope people still read my work after the long…unannounced hiatus.

I apologize if some people gave up on my fic because you guys thought it was discontinued.

It's not. I assure you.

I welcome PMs that nudge me to continue to write. You've all been so kind. I love hearing from you.

Sincerely,

SakuraTeardrop

P.S It's probably going to take a long time before I finish this so I advise you - if you really like "The First Granddaughter" and it's cheesiness – to hit the "story alert" button below so that you'll know when I update next. I'll keep you posted!


	6. Refusal

Chapter 6

-Refusal-

* * *

><p>As it is with every public announcement made by the Fuhrer, the news of Brigadier General Mustang's sudden engagement spread like wild fire across the country. The inspiring war-hero who sparked a revolution was reaping the rewards of his labor by being allowed to marry into such a prestigious family as the Grummans.<p>

The president's choice was of course embraced by most of the public, but not entirely for the news had enraged his political advisors. Although Brigadier General Mustang was the war-hero that abolished racial segregation, Grumman's advisors did not deem Roy fit to be the next presidential candidate due to a myriad of reasons (which mostly included Roy's past involvement with the coup de tat)

On the other hand, the citizens and the totalitarian council were quite happy with the news. They all thought that it was only befitting that a man of honor would marry into the Grumman family.

Naturally, in response to Grumman's announcement, they applauded the war-hero ten times over.

The Brigadier General, however, was deaf to the raucousness around him. All of he could think of as of that moment was, how on earth Riza Hawkeye remained so composed and unmoving upon hearing the abrupt news on her engagement.

…In fact, she barely spared him her gaze.

_Jesus Christ_, He thought nervously to himself, _How did this happen?_

The former first lieutenant only looked on as the crowd roared and cheered, but he could tell by the way she bit her lower lip that she too wasn't very happy with the news. And of course, Roy did his best to find her after the party…but as soon as the string quartet had finished playing the next movement, the first granddaughter was nowhere to be found.

* * *

><p>Roy was surveying the entire ballroom when Second Lieutenant Havoc had called over to him.<p>

"Chief!"

The Brigadier General then whipped his head towards Havoc's nearing voice. "Oh for heaven's sake, what now?" he muttered to himself, feeling as if time was passing him by ever so quickly each second he was not able to find her.

The dirty-blond haired soldier jogged towards Roy with a smile that was hard to miss. "I believe congratulations are in order –"

"Havoc, please." Roy interrupted as he continued searching the crowd for a particular blond woman.

However, Havoc wasn't just going to give up. "Chief, you have to promise me you won't cancel this engagement…or postpone the marriage."

The Brigadier General cocked his eyebrow at the lower-ranked officer. "I am not obligated to promise you _anything,_ soldier."

Havoc's smile only widened, "So if some business tycoon like Daniel Hays - _though I'm not saying it will be Daniel Hays_ - marries her you'll totally be fine with it? He's a tool, _you know_. I've read in several magazines that he's probably had at least eighteen girlfriends."

Roy then stopped at his tracks. "What exactly are you getting at, Havoc?"

The Second Lieutenant removed the unlit piece of cigarette between his lips before continuing, "That, if, hypothetically speaking, you refuse Hawkeye's hand out of self-preservation or some sense of respect for her, Grumman might lean towards his _second choice_ which is say probably…the heir to some multi-billion business empire."

"And we all know guys like that are bound to be pricks." Havoc whispered rather comically to which Roy cringed at.

"The Fuhrer's not giving her away to Daniel." Roy retorted, but pauses for a brief second before facing Havoc. "….is he?"

Truthfully, Brigadier General Mustang never understood Fuhrer Grumman's open fondness for the self-obsessed business tycoon. In most of his parties, Grumman would often make Daniel Hays the main topic of almost every conversation. _Daniel, this, Daniel, that. _In fact, the topic would be so exhausting to the point General Olivier Armstrong would just simply walk out because she was bored of hearing about a man that was not even involved with the military.

What an annoying mystery that Daniel was…!

_...The flame alchemist decided, right then and there, that he needed a word with the Fuhrer to talk some sense into him._

But whatever Roy had to tell the Fuhrer could wait tomorrow, because now, he had to find her first.

* * *

><p>After his brief chat with Havoc, the flame alchemist took a five minute walk to the main building of the Grand Estate, where the Fuhrer and his family resided in. As he was walking through the dim candle-lit arcaded patio, he thought about the first granddaughter, and what she must've felt.<p>

Initially, she would have probably been taken aback by the news… but it was mind-boggling how she did not show any objection towards it.

As the marbled steps came into view, Roy ceased his thoughts and effortlessly made his way up to the main door where two cadet soldiers stood by the door framing. The two nodded at the well-known leader of East City, permitting his entry without a second thought.

Brigadier General Mustang found himself inside the almost empty living room of the Grumman residence. _Almost_, for he instantly spotted a woman seated in one of the pale taupe couches. The woman seemed to be deep in thought, up until she jumped at the sight of him.

"Oh!" she shrieked, immediately standing up. "Sir Mustang! I wasn't expecting anyone…"

It was Isobel Crewe, Fuhrer Grumman's bashful secretary and personal assistant. The bags under her eyes indicated that she hasn't slept properly from planning the Fuhrer's ball and her unruly hair informed Roy that she did not have enough time to tidy up for the party.

"Miss Crewe." He cleared his throat. "What are you doing here?"

"I was…just…" She stammered on, figuring that there was no point in lying. "I was hoping to sneak in a nap…" She trailed off, half-expecting to be scolded. "Please, don't tell the Fuhrer. It's just that I have grown weary for coordinating with the planners the whole day –"

The flame alchemist nodded understandably. "Why don't you retire for the night?" he smiled. "I'm sure Fuhrer Grumman wouldn't mind."

"Y-y-yes." She bowed her head. "Please excuse me," she mumbled, quickly walking past him.

"Oh wait, Isobel!" He called after her, causing her to turn around.

"_Have you seen Riza_?"

Isobel's replied with a tired smile. "I saw her off to her room earlier. _Third floor_, second door to the right."

* * *

><p>The first granddaughter only did what was practical – which was to flee the scene before the guests smothered her with needless 'congratulations' and praises. While Grumman busied the guests with another thirty minutes of explaining how he and Roy became friends, and while the guests had their eyes fixed on the Fuhrer president, she took it upon herself, to stealthily exit the stage using the backdoor while no one was looking.<p>

Besides, all that socializing crap and whatnot with all those Generals that she never knew existed, drained her of her energy. Frankly, she couldn't care less about their 'heroic' stories or how famous they were back in the early days of the Bradley administration. It took everything in her will power not to yawn conversation after conversation

_Riza hated small talk._

But during the Fuhrer's ball, he made sure she got plenty of it.

_"Ah! President Grumman's granddaughter in the flesh!"_

_"What a lovely looking girl, Grumman!" _

_"You take care of her grandfather, now."_

As Riza recalled her tireless night, she met her reflection in her bathroom mirror and frowned.

_Who was this woman standing in front of her? - dressed in a lavish gown, hair adorned with various flowers and ornments, feigning half-smiles at the bourgeoisie with lips so red and why, oh why, did she garner so much attention?  
><em>

_Why was the public so taken with her?_

Oddly enough, she didn't feel like she was...Riza Hawkeye.

_She couldn't even recognize herself anymore._

_It was as if the person standing in front of her was just...the first granddaughter of Amestris...nothing less. _

Slowly, Riza had begun to reach for her back and promptly unzipped the itchy fabric that annoyed her all night. When the red satin dress fell on the ground, she finally breathed in relief.

* * *

><p>Brigadier General Mustang, on the other hand, was slightly out of breath as he bound up the third flight of stairs of the Estate's massive staircase. When Roy finally took his final step at the top landing, he momentarily stopped to catch his breath before proceeding to the right wing.<p>

_Second door to the right, _he thought ceasing his footsteps in front of two mahogany doors.

He then lifted his knuckle but hesitated to knock, wondering if she was even awake at such a ghastly hour; but he figured, _just two knocks_ then if she doesn't answer, he'll just have to leave.

_Just two knocks, _Roy nodded finally, nervously raising his fist

First knock.

"Riza? Are you there?"

"Riza?"

No answer.

Second knock.

"Riza…please."

"I thought we could talk." He said, this time a little bit weaker.

Still no answer.

"Two knocks." The flame alchemist whispered to himself with his head rested against the door.

_Well there's always tomorrow._

The Brigadier General, a bit disappointed, started to walk away when the door suddenly clicked open.

"General?"

His heart almost stopped.

"Are you coming in?" Riza asked him, cracking her door open a little wider.

* * *

><p>With his elbows perched on the balustrade, Roy Mustang watched as the lights in each household extinguish one by one in the Central City. It was about 11:45 in the evening, and most of Grumman's guests had just begun to leave the Grand Estate.<p>

Riza Hawkeye's eyes, on the other hand, were fixed on her superior.

"Everything okay?"

He shook his head, "My whole night just turned into a nightmare."

And she knew _very well_ what he meant.

Grumman made it known to the assembly that he had every intention of grooming Roy to be the next Fuhrer president of Amestris and the people embraced the idea. Of course, they would. The hero of Ishvala as the next president? It was too good to be true!

Riza, initially, wasn't opposed to Grumman's intent of helping Roy elevate in the ranks for she knew he loved him like a son…but when, he dropped the bomb of Roy having to marry her first as a condition, _she was very surprised_.

Fuhrer Grumman may have told the assembly that giving his granddaughter away to his successor was a gift, but what he really meant was that, it was a pre-requisite. Meaning, Roy would have to marry Riza Hawkeye first before Grumman actually promotes him.

"It was unexpected," The former lieutenant concurred. "I knew he would help you in your career but I didn't think it would coincide with him marrying me away."

The Fuhrer president basically hit two birds with one stone.

"Which is why, I'm going to have to decline his proposition." Roy narrowed his eyes.

"But then…General…if you so much as accept this," She pondered. "You could be Fuhrer soon. Grandfather is willing to show you the ropes. And with the right amount of campaigning and the amount of supporters you have right now, it looks promising-"

"I don't care." The flame alchemist interjected.

"Riza," his onyx eyes were now locked with her amber eyes, "I don't care…" he repeats once more, "I don't care if I'm Fuhrer in the next five years….or even next week…"

Stunned, the first granddaughter felt his warm gloved hand against her cheek, "All I care about is you."

"General…"

"I would never ever use you to get to my goals." He said to her very earnestly, "…you're far too important to me."

Her eyes softened on him as he continued to speak,

"I beg your forgiveness in advance, because with what I'm about to do, might sever my relations with your grandfather…"

Riza Hawkeye knew that it was probably a careless decision, but she stood by him nevertheless.

_ "Don't apologize. Do what you have to do."_

* * *

><p>The next morning, Brigadier General Mustang paid the Grand Estate a visit, with every intention of telling the Fuhrer that he had no plans of marrying Riza Hawkeye.<p>

He was greeted at the door by the head maid, Helena who immediately escorted him inside the Fuhrer's study.

After a minute or so, The Fuhrer had appeared in the study, fully dressed in his military apparel. "This better be quick. I'm late for a meeting."

"Yes, I'll be quick." Roy replied. "I wanted to talk to you about that engagement."

"I only mean her well, you know that."

Roy Mustang heaved a sigh and turn to meet Fuhrer Grumman's gaze, "With all do respect, sir, do you _really_?"

"Well," Fuhrer Grumman breathed as he poured himself a glass of red wine. "I know, you'll find this hard to believe, General, but yes, I do care about her. And frankly, out of the 36 affluent men on the list, I didn't like anybody."

The younger man would only shake his head in response. "_List_?"

"My advisors gave me a list of bachelors who were eligible enough to marry my granddaughter, which is actually a funny story," Grumman snorted as recalled the two-paged manila paper. "Because none of them were below the age of forty-five."

Brigadier General Mustang eyed his superior in disbelief. "Why me?"

….He, of all people, was handpicked by the Fuhrer to marry Riza Hawkeye.

And Riza Hawkeye wasn't just a random woman of prestige, for crying out loud. She was someone he knew and someone he _closely_ worked with for the past decade. To him, Riza was his most important subordinate and most trusted friend. And he spent a fair amount of his life trying to protect her, when all along, he should have been protecting her from her _fiend of a grandfather_.

"You sound offended." The Fuhrer chuckled, taking a small sip of red wine. "Thought you'd be delighted."

Roy narrowed his eyes. "I refuse to be tied down to Miss Hawkeye."

Grumman's face fell almost instantly. "Now _I'm_ offended."

"I did not mean any offense towards you, sir –"

"Is my granddaughter so repulsive and so vile that you would refuse her hand in marriage?" Fuhrer Grumman snapped, feeling his anger rise by the second. "After everything I've done for you, you refuse this _one thing_ I ask of you."

Roy's silence only confirmed Grumman's fear.

"I can't marry her."

"Jesus, Roy! Do you know how hard it was to go against my advisors wishes?" Grumman cried in exasperation. "I defended you in front of those spineless fools! They clearly don't believe you're president material; but, I do! I believe sealing this marriage could elevate you in the ranks, my boy! Now, Look me in the eye," He placed his hand on Roy's shoulders. "And tell me you don't love my granddaughter and I will, I swear to God, let this go!"

The flame alchemist clenched his fist in reply.

"Say it," The old man urged. "I beg of you, tell me you don't love her."

Roy shook his head, "Fuhrer, please don't."

"Then I have been mistaken." The Fuhrer sighed in disappointment. "You do not have feelings for her –"

"I do have feelings for her." Roy interjected, catching the old man quite off-guard. "I'm not certain if that is what you want to hear, sir, but that is the truth. I have a very deep regard for her and that is exactly why I cannot marry her."

With that statement said, the leader of East City had rendered the poor Fuhrer speechless.

…And incredibly irked.

But the Fuhrer president wasn't just going to go down without a fight.

* * *

><p>Hello Readers, Subscribers, Reviewers,<p>

I don't know if you guys still anticipate chapters from me, but I made a commitment to finish this fic no matter what and that is exactly what I'm doing.

Finishing what I started!

Yes this fic, is no longer on hiatus. Will continue it ASAP

I'm already in the process of writing it. And revising past chapters.

PS I never stopped loving Royai. /eternal cries.

Also sorry for some grammar mistakes. I already edited it.

Much Love,

SakuraTeardrop

EDITED: 7/19/14


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